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StarWars FanFiction
POV: Flight of the Raiven (II)
By Michael Rovardi
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"I was horrified. I powered up my systems and microjumped back to the scene of the battle. There were debris and bodies everywhere. Of course, the massacre had begun 15 minutes before and had lasted around 5 minutes, so when I arrived the Executor and the Avenger were long gone.

"I realised at that point exactly what the Empire was and that it must be destroyed."

Raiven sat at the table and looked at Ibero and Drake. They were both horrified.

"Don't tell me," said Drake "You feel... responsible?... in some way. That you could have done something to help?"

Raiven nodded. "At first. And for a while afterwards. Then, one time I was reviewing the sensor logs it hit me. Firstly, if I'd stuck around - against a direct order - I would have been arrested, and considering Vader's personal flagship was there, they probably would have skipped the court-martial and gone straight to the execution. Secondly, even if I had stuck around, there was an SSD and an ISD. As callous as this sounds, there was nothing I could have done, except get myself killed along with the rest of the convoy."

"Exactly right," said Drake "I've seen too many pilots tear themselves up over incidents in the war they couldn't do anything about."

"What did you do next?" asked Ibero, quietly.

"I set a course for Nar Shadaa. Obviously, the Empire would never admit what had happened to the convoy - that's why the rest of the ships were wiped out - so there were no witnesses. I felt obligated to let the families of the people on the convoy know what really happened, or the Empire would just tell them the convoy had been lost in hyperspace or something.

"The Nav computer plotted a route via a Nav Buoy in the Kanchen Sector, so I set the coordinates and jumped. Forty minutes later the system signalled to prepare for reversion and I jumped back to realspace. Into the middle of a firefight. I found 2 Rebel Alliance A Wings mixing it up with 7 Gunboats, and the gunboats were winning. As I sped towards the furball, one of the A Wings bought it."

Ibero nodded sadly. "Wyvern. He'd only been with the squadron for less than a week. That recon mission was his first combat duty."

Raiven continued. "He'd managed to take out one of the Gunboats - judging by the floating wreckage - and as I watched, the other - I later discovered it was Solo - got another. But with 3 gunboats on his tail and another 3 coming towards him from one side, he was in trouble.

"I refused to sit by this time. I went to full throttle and closed in, and commed the lead gunboat. I asked him if he needed assistance.

"'No, we don't need any help' he replied.

"I just answered 'Wrong.' and opened fire. The first gunboat took 3 quad bursts before he even realised what had happened and exploded a few moments later. The second took a couple of blasts before breaking off pursuit of the A Wing. The third gunboat was pretty ballsy, he kept up a stream of fire that weakened Solo's shields badly. I put a couple of quad bursts into him to make him turn away then left him for Solo. Unfortunately, this left my starboard side wide open to the approaching flight of gunships and I took 3 concussion missiles. Two of the missiles took down most of my shields and the backblast from the third finished them off and took out my two starboard-side cannon. I went evasive while I tried to rebuild my shields, and by that time Solo had turned to engage the gunboats. He took out the second of the first flight and one of the second before I reengaged with my secondary shields barely showing in the yellow range - a couple of shots' worth of protection at best. I finished off number 3 and engaged the second of the second flight with missiles while Solo concentrated on the remaining gunboat. He finished him off, but not before taking hits to the rear that knocked down his shields and damaged his fighter's systems. I finished off my gunboat and made a quick sweep of the area with my sensors. Nothing. I pulled alongside the A Wing, which was cruising at barely 40 MGLT, and contacted him on an open channel.

"He told me his name was Solo - I gave him my callsign - and he asked what was going on. I told him I was no longer in Imperial service and was happy to help. We surveyed the damage on our ships. Along with the cannon, my hull had taken a beating, and I had lost my Nav computer. My portside engine was redlining on most gauges and my aft shield generator had overloaded. Solo was in even worse condition. He'd lost hypercomm, his hyperdrive and one of his engines was operating at barely 30% capability.

"I suggested a deal. My hyperdrive was still functional since the hyperdrive controller - which stored the numbers immediately before and during the hyperjump - was intact. I could still hyperjump, but I would need the numbers calculating first. My hypercomm was working, so I could call for assistance for him if he would use his still-functional nav computer to calculate the numbers for a straight jump to Nar Shadaa.

"'Why don't you join us? You obviously don't like the Empire' Solo asked.

"I responded 'Perhaps later. I have something I need to do first.'

"We agreed, and while his nav computer worked on the numbers, I patched Solo into the hypercomm via the short-range system and he called for assistance. The response was fast. The Joan d'Arc promised to send a shuttle and escort within 10 minutes - she must have been close by - and be there herself within 20.

"I took the hyperspace jump coordinates and began my run to hyperspace.

"The Jump to Nar Shadaa took a couple of hours, and I came insystem without too much trouble. Despite the damage, the TIE advanced easily outmanoeuvred and outran the two Z95s launched by Port Traffic control through the canyons of the city-moon.

"I put the TIE in for repairs, and took a... job... to pay for them"

"'Job'?" asked Drake, raising an eyebrow "Sounds... interesting"

Raiven shook his head ruefully. "That's a story for another time"

"What happened after you left Nar Shadaa?" asked Ibero, bringing them back to the subject in hand.

"I made some contacts on Nar Shadaa and, via the mercenary company that owned the Bulk Cruiser and the Corvette, I backtracked the convoy and the people who had hired the warships to provide protection against pirates, etc. Unfortunately, someone else had also made contacts - with the Empire - and I ended up having to outrun an Imperial Frigate - the Malevolent - on the way out."

"The repairs were fairly effective. The engine and shield generator were repaired, the hull patched, and a new nav computer - actually one from a Gunboat - was fitted. The destroyed laser cannon couldn't be replaced without questions being asked, but the techs had repaired the starboard - ventral cannon by scavenging the port - dorsal one for parts; it gave me the two ventral cannons for a fire pattern like an A Wing's. Still, I didn't really want to wander into serious trouble without more substantial repairs, so I took a fairly roundabout route to my destination."

"Which was where?" asked Drake.

"A little colony in the Obroan sector, by the name of Liant. The planet itself was fairly inhospitable, a small ice cube orbiting a cool red giant. According to the records, the colony based there had decided to relocate to other, warmer climes, a couple of years previously. They could only afford it when they discovered a rich vein of some mineral or another. They assembled the convoy, buying and hiring ships a few at a time to avoid drawing undue attention, and sending them to Nar Shadaa, where they would meet the mercenary escort for the rest of the trip. They took supplies, building equipment and so on, to make a new start at their new home.

"I arrived at Liant and settled into a series of survey orbits. The enhanced sensors on the TIE were intact, and I quickly discovered the colony buildings on the surface. The entry into the atmosphere was pretty gentle - it had to be, with the hull in that condition, and I set down on a snow covered landing pad. To my surprise, there were still lights on inside a couple of the buildings, one of which was the hangar. I came prepared, so I put on my cold weather gear - not easy inside a TIE cockpit - and walked over to the main entrance. I took my new toy - A Blastech A280S blaster rifle - just in case they weren't receptive to visitors. The buildings were largely subterranean, to preserve heat, I suppose. I made my way through deserted halls and darkened rooms towards the hangar. Most of the internal doors were left open, probably unpowered. Ascending a flight of stairs, I entered the hangar onto a second-floor balcony, and crouched behind a computer console.

"The hangar itself was fairly large, and contained 3 ships - a Lambda class shuttle, a Corellian YT-2000 light freighter and a Modular Conveyor. About 20 people were walking around the ships, making what looked like preflight checks, last minute maintenance and so on. A further 15 or so people were loading the shuttle and freighter - the conveyor's angular containers were already attached and ready to go.

"I shouldered the rifle and walked down some steps, hands open in front of me. I was halfway down before they noticed me, and with shouts of 'freeze!' and 'stay where you are!', several drew their blasters. Activity in the hangar came to a halt and one, a thickset man with a black beard, walked forward, pointing his blaster if not at me, then in my general direction.

"'Who are you? What do you want?' He demanded.

"'Raiven. I'm sorry to startle you, but we need to talk. It's about the others.'

The bearded man seemed to consider this for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"'This way' said the man, 'Dayne, come with us. The rest of you, finish the loading.'

"Holstering his blaster, he pointed to a small office set in the wall. He seemed to have figured out that I wasn't hostile, probably because he could see my rifle slung over my shoulder and realised I could have easily opened fire from the catwalk in the hangar.

"'What about the others? You mean the convoy?' He asked gruffly. A younger man with fair hair entered the office behind us and closed the old hinged-type door.

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